Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  I studied the faces of the curious onlookers. Most stuffed their faces with the contents of their plates like popcorn at a movie. Others whispered with curious glances toward Melvin and Bruce. No one showed a smidgeon of a guilty conscience. It would make solving this case easier if someone had shifty eyes, or kept looking everywhere but at us. I’d take scuffing of a foot in the dirt at this point.

  “Think harder. You must have told someone.”

  Melvin raised red-rimmed eyes to me. “I don’t know.”

  “I told you to butt out, Marsha. Do you have cotton in your ears?” A muscle ticked in Bruce’s jaw. “If you don’t stop, I’ll haul you to the station for obstruction of justice.”

  He wouldn’t dare arrest me! Fine. I’d question Melvin myself later.

  Duane must have recognized the look on my face, because he bent low and whispered, “Heed Bruce’s advice, Marsha.”

  I plastered on the sweetest smile I could. “Of course.”

  “Do you have other money stashed around your place?” Bruce’s pencil scratched the surface of the paper.

  Melvin’s eyes widened. “I ain’t telling you that with all these looky-Lu’s here!”

  Bruce continued to scratch notes on his pad. “You come down to the station in the morning to sign a statement. I ought to haul you in now for public drunkenness, but what the heck.”

  Duane nuzzled my ear. “I know what you’re thinking, so at least let me go with you on snoop patrol.” My man knew me so well. Duane kissed me then led me to the side of the crowd as Bruce slapped his notebook closed and marched past us to his patrol car. Melvin roared his lawnmower to life and cut a short swatch through my lawn on his way off the property. I’d give him fifteen minutes to get home, then Duane and I could sneak away.

  The crowd parted like the red sea to let me pass to the back yard. Duane headed to the drink table to grab two water bottles. Mom caught up with me, a bit unsteady on her high heels. She wore an outdated, one-size-too-small wedding dress. I bit my lip to keep from grinning.

  “What is going on in this town?” Penciled eyebrows rose.

  “Wish I knew. But someone is raking in the dough.” And it wasn’t us.

  “I haven’t heard of any big deposits down at the bank. You know Ira would’ve told me. Woman can’t keep her lips from flapping to save her life. No one’s throwing money around. Not with today’s economy, anyway.” Mom tapped her lip with a press-on French-manicured nail. “Whoever’s doing the stealing, is keeping a low profile.”

  “Keep an ear out, okay?” I gave her a quick hug. “Duane and I are headed over to question Melvin some more.”

  “Perfect. I’ll eavesdrop during the rest of the party.” Mom yoo-hooed to Leroy and sashayed in his direction, her hips swinging like a bell.

  Good grief. Sometimes she acted like a teenage girl on the prowl. Crooking a finger in Duane’s direction, I marched to his truck, hiked up my dress, and climbed in. The itchy wig I wore, soon sat next to me on the seat. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled in front of Melvin’s ranch-style house.

  Even in the dusk of evening, I could see his landscaping could win an award. During the day, the lawn must burst with a rainbow of color. It was as lush and plush as expensive carpet. A porch light illuminated a rock walkway. As soon as I came into enough money of my own, I’d hire Melvin for more than mowing. He could design a backyard paradise.

  “Wow. Nice yard.” Duane slid from behind the wheel and stared almost reverently at the grounds. “This guy has talent. No wonder he wants to open his own landscaping business.”

  “Yep. Let’s go see if he has answers.” A rising breeze whipped my dress up around my waist. Duane laughed. Good thing I’d had the foresight to wear those shorts teenage practiced cheer in.

  Melvin greeted us on the porch. “Figured you’d show up, nosey woman. Howdy, Duane.”

  “Melvin.” The two shook hands, leaving me to stew about Melvin’s comment.

  Nosey! I’d find out what was going on around here, then everyone would be thankful I had an inquisitive nature. Swallowing my pride, I motioned toward the door. “Can we step inside?”

  “Sure.” Melvin led the way. So much for modern-day chivalry. At least Duane held the door for me. “Ask your questions.”

  “Can I look at the closet?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “It’s just a place to hang my coats and stash my cash, but sure.”

  The closet in question sat right beside the front door. No way could they both be opened at the same time without hitting against each other. So, logically, someone could’ve been in and out within a couple of minutes. But there was still the fact they had to know the money was kept there.

  On the top shelf rested a single box. The solitary object practically shouted, “Open me.” No hats or gloves shared the space. Easy to guess someone would’ve lifted the lid and taken a peek. I glanced around the room. No throw pillows on the sofa. No magazines on the glass top coffee table. Not even an empty soda can marred the clean surfaces. I never would’ve figured Melvin for a neat freak.

  “Why don’t you use the bank, Melvin?”

  “Are you nuts? I ain’t giving the government none of my hard-earned money. Other than what I have to pay in taxes, they ain’t getting a dime.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Think. Who knew you had money?”

  He sagged into an easy chair. “Anybody. I talked about saving money for the last few months. The only thing they didn’t know was how much I had or where I kept it. Most of the folks around here know I don’t trust banks.”

  This would be a hard case to crack. Someone knew the occupants of this town, and knew them well.

  Chapter Thirty

  After church, and another hour of reading to and wiping noses of toddlers in their Sunday school class, I stood on the front steps of the church and took a cleansing breath of an Ozark summer day. The humidity filled my lungs with liquid air, but at least it didn’t smell of peanut butter crackers or “accidents”. I tried to dredge up at least a little excitement due to ministering to God’s little ones, but instead wanted to pinch Duane for volunteering us again.

  My shoulders sagged. Not really. The little tykes were growing on me, and they were like little sponges soaking up whatever we taught them.

  After a quick glance at my watch, I scurried for my car, deliberately avoiding the spot where Melvin’s lawnmower had hit it. I didn’t want to know the extent of damage to my paint job. Not yet. I only had thirty minutes before visiting hours at the jail, and needed to compose myself. Karen Anderson was at the top of my very long to-do list.

  Duane was nowhere in sight for me to tell him where I was headed. I checked my cell phone to be sure it was on, then turned my car toward the other side of town. Duane could call if he needed me.

  River Valley’s jail-house, a modest red brick building shaded by massive oak trees, sat about three hundred yards back from the highway. I cut the engine to the Prius and stared at the unimposing building. Except for the sign and the black and white’s parked out front, a passerby wouldn’t have a clue what the building housed. Formerly, administrative offices to an elementary school long burned down, the building had one holding cell, and rarely any occupants.

  I’d spotted Bruce at church so knew he didn’t work today. Grabbing my purse, I slid from the car and marched to the front door. An electronic signal bonged when I pushed open the door and a small-framed, heavily made-up woman peered at me over tortoise shell rimmed glasses. “Yes?”

  “I’d like to see Karen Anderson, please.”

  The receptionist cocked her head to one side. “Oh, a guest here.” She smirked and slid a form for me to sign across the desk. “You’ll have to leave your purse, jewelry, belt, etc. Lockers are over there.”

  “Can I take a notebook and pen?” I wanted to take notes. Karen had to know something about her brother’s death. I scratched my signature on the line.

  “Let me see them.” She wiggled her fingers in my direction.
/>   I withdrew the small spiral notebook and ink pen from my purse. The woman studied the items then handed them back.

  “I suppose you can. You’ll be under the watchful eye of an officer anyway. We’re pretty small time here.”

  Did she think I would try to bust Karen out? I stifled a giggle and smiled. She waved me through a heavy wooden door where an officer waited. The door banged shut behind us, my skin prickled. What if I needed to leave in a hurry? There wasn’t an emergency button in sight. Perspiration dotted my upper lip, and I hugged the tiny notebook to my chest.

  “Sit here.” The officer motioned to a chair on one side of a pocked laminate-topped table. Another chair sat opposite.

  I sat motionless and stared straight ahead for the eternal ten minutes it took for the man to lead a handcuffed Karen Anderson to the table.

  “Hello?” Her brow creased.

  “Hi, Karen. I’m Marsha Steele. Remember I spoke with you at your. . .uh. . .arrest?”

  “Yes, I remember.” She plopped into the seat. Her handcuffs clanked the table. “What can I do for you?”

  “Like I told you a few days ago, I’m trying to clear my daughter of suspicious charges.” It wasn’t a complete lie. They hadn’t suspected her of anything lately, but they had at first.

  Karen arched an eyebrow.

  “You also said you had taken your brother’s money, but returned it.”

  “Some of it.” She nodded. “I returned it the day before his death. I was there the next day to have lunch.” Karen leaned forward. “I paid back exactly three hundred dollars. Kyle seemed more relieved to see me than about the money.”

  “Can you tell me how much you took?”

  “Five hundred dollars. Not much by some people’s standards, but it was enough to tide me over until I found a job in St. Louis. Not that I have one anymore.” Her shoulders slumped. “I have to be back on Wednesday. Somehow, I don’t see me getting out of here by then.”

  The firing of my questions, and the scratching of my pen, made me feel like a big-shot reporter. Maybe I’d missed my calling. Marsha Stele, Investigative Reporter. “Tell me about finding your brother.”

  Karen shuddered, and her she paled to the color of Cream of Wheat. “I was an hour late. After knocking on the front door, I moved to the back. It was open. I stepped inside and saw Kyle lying there with a sandwich in his hand and a hammer in his head. I called the cops right away.”

  “Were there signs anyone was there before you?”

  She chewed her lip, catching a piece of dried skin between her teeth. “This is the weird part. I’d called Kyle and told him I was running late. He said no problem. So why the sandwich? Why didn’t he wait on me? Plus, I could’ve sworn I smelled a flowery perfume when I entered the house. Kyle never mentioned having a girlfriend.”

  “Was anyone outside? Did anyone seem overly curious about Kyle’s house?”

  “Yes.” Karen nodded. “There was someone. A woman. Blond, curvy, walking a dog. A red head in a dark car drove by. I notice things like that.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “Comes from keeping an eye out for cops, I guess. I also saw Melvin on his lawnmower. He was driving it down the street like it was a car or something. I know he was a friend of my brother’s, but that is the strangest man.”

  Keep her on track, Marsha. “Did anyone check for the missing money?”

  “I don’t know. Kyle kept it in the cookie jar shaped like a monkey.” Karen laughed then choked on a sob. “I told him not to do that, but he said no one would ever find it there. I bet someone did, right after they killed him.”

  I needed to get inside Kyle’s house. “Thank you, Karen. I’m going to try and find out what happened. Hopefully, I can get you back to work on time and put a murderer behind bars.” Standing, I allowed the officer to lead me out of the room. I wrote a note telling Bruce to check Kyle’s house for a monkey cookie jar and dropped it on his desk.

  “Don’t believe everything she says,” the officer told me. “The woman had recreational drugs in her system when we booked her.” He pushed a button to allow the steel doors to open. “Have a good day.”

  Marching past the stern receptionist, I stepped outside and blinked against the sunlight assaulting my eyes. My conversation with Karen swirled through my mind. So, many questions. It wasn’t surprising that I believed her. Drugs or not, the woman already sat behind bars. Why lie? Of course, I tended to take people at face value. Often I found myself proved wrong, but sometimes people were truthful.

  Two officers shoved past me, sprinting toward their cars and pulled me from my musing. Ever curious, I dashed to my own vehicle, prepared to follow.

  My Prius had a tough time keeping up with their speedier squad cars, and I fell behind. No matter. Only one place resided at the end of the road we traveled. Mountain View Community Church.

  By the time I arrived, the squad cars had parked and the officers surrounded Stephanie Jackson. Her sobs carried across the parking lot. I jammed my car into park, shut off the ignition, and bolted from my seat. What could have happened to send the woman into hysterics?

  Duane met me half-way. “What happened?” I gripped his arms and glanced toward Stephanie.

  He led me to a wooden bench beneath a magnolia tree. “Seems there’s been another robbery.”

  “What? Who?” My blood froze.

  “The women’s ministry money is gone.”

  “How is that possible? Stephanie keeps it locked in the safe.” I rose to go to her but Duane pulled me back down. “Only a handful of people have access.”

  He cupped my face, forcing me to look at him. “The money wasn’t in the safe, Marsha. Stephanie had it out on the desk. Counting it and getting it ready for deposit tomorrow.”

  I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask. “How much?”

  “Two thousand dollars.”

  “Did she leave it lying there?” The look on his face pulled the rug from beneath me. “Duane?”

  He took a deep breath. “According to her, two people came in. One male and one female. Stephanie said they kept their hands in their pockets and acted like they had a gun.”

  “Where was everyone else?” It didn’t make sense. People congregated after church. Somebody would have seen something. The way Duane continued to stare at me told me he wasn’t finished.

  “Sweetheart.” His hands lowered to grip mine. “Stephanie said one of them wore a green backpack with white polka dots.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  If I hadn’t been sitting, I would have fallen. Instead, I shook my head and clamped my trembling knees together. “Stephanie’s making that up. Besides, Lindsey isn’t the only teen in these parts with that color backpack.” No way would I believe it. My daughter a thief? A murderer? Uh-uh. I yanked my hands free of Duane’s. How dare he entertain the thought?

  “The evidence doesn’t look good. Bruce is more convinced then ever that Lindsey is involved somehow.”

  I set my jaw and tilted my chin. “Ridiculous.”

  “I’m just saying that—”

  “And if you believe her capable of this, I don’t want anything more to do with you.”

  “Marsha.” The pain in his voice ripped through me as effectively as a razor.

  “No.” Without another glance, I tore away and fled to my car. Tears blurred my vision as I roared from the parking lot. My Prius didn’t make the sound I would have liked. More like an electronic purr, but I hoped the sight of my rear bumper got my point across. Through the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of Duane standing in front of the church looking like a boy who’d lost his best friend. The sight tugged at my heart. I couldn’t focus on him right now. Not when finding Lindsey was so imperative.

  Maybe someone stole her backpack. Yeah, that had to be the case.

  Ten minutes later, I crunched gravel pulling into our driveway. Since every light in the house was on, despite it being early afternoon, I made an educated guess that Lindsey was home. Play it cool, Marsha. Casual conver
sation. Don’t blurt out the questions.

  I cut the ignition and squared my shoulders. What was I afraid of? She didn’t steal anything. The innocent always won, right? I slid from the seat and closed the car door as quiet as possible. With heavy steps, I made my way to the porch.

  Two voices reached my straining ears. I clinched my jaw. Lindsey knew she wasn’t supposed to have a boy over when no one was home. Their words slipped through the open window.

  “That was way easier than I thought.” Billy laughed.

  Cold chills ran down my back.

  “Did you see the look on her face?” Lindsey’s giggle joined his merriment. “My backpack weighed a ton. I never thought I’d make it home.”

  “I told you to let me carry it.”

  “No way. You’re too careless. Besides, it was worth it.” Ice clinked in a glass. How could they drink at a time like this? I put my head in my hands.

  “What we did today should provide years of entertainment.” Billy laughed again.

  My heart sank like a stone, and I collapsed on the porch swing. Things didn’t look good for my baby.

  The front door creaked as my mom pushed it open. At least Lindsey hadn’t broken one of my rules. Mom made a more than sufficient chaperone.

  “Why are you sitting out here?” She dried her hands on a dish towel. “Are you all right? Can I get you some lemonade? An aspirin?”

  I shook my head and pushed off with my foot, setting the swing in motion. “Someone stole the women’s ministry money after church today.”

  Mom folded into a wicker rocking chair. “Do they have any idea who?”

  With a deep sigh, I motioned my head toward the front window. “Lindsey.”

  “Not that again! Why won’t people open their eyes?”

  “The suspect carried a green backpack with white polka dots.” Tears stung my eyelids. “And I heard her and Billy through the window. They were talking about how heavy her backpack was and. . . ”

  “The only thing those two brought home today was the biggest cat I’ve ever seen. The thing’s a monster! Its purr sounds like a Mack truck.” Mom shuddered. “They were so excited about ‘saving’ it, I didn’t have the heart to make them get rid of the thing. Carted it home in her backpack. Howled like the dickens when they walked through the door. Then Cleo started barking. It was total mayhem.”